Running the River; Bass Fishing 6/1/07

Yesterday Kristine and I ran the 10K race in the annual Dexter-Ann Arbor Run, pounding the pavement along the Huron River as it approaches the city . This was the first organized running event we'd ever participated in. Since we started running fairly regularly, I'd wanted to run one, just to see what it was like, though as we approached race day, I started to regret having entered. On account of weather, family business, yard work, and, of course, fishing, I only got to run four times in the two weeks prior to the race. I thought I was in for a tough morning. But I ran well, and by the end of the race, I felt better about running generally than I have in a long time.

I have never considered myself "a runner." I just run to keep in shape, and I've never worried much about how fast I went or whether I ran with correct form. (And what is correct form anyway?) If I wasn't in pain, I figured I was doing OK, though I've gathered that some runners would tell me I have this backwards. I don't jog in place when I have to stop for traffic or wear a heart rate monitor. Gym shorts and a cotton t-shirt are all the running togs I need--no fancy matched lycra outfits for this boy. Running is not something I particularly look forward to or that gives me much pleasure, though sometimes I do find the sensation of the body working smoothly under strain very satisfying--and gratifying. What I guess all of this says is that to me, running has been an almost entirely utilitarian undertaking, never an art, or a passion. My heart was in it only so far as it pumped blood.

But yesterday, I very much enjoyed being part of the run. It was exciting to be out there with others who were putting their all into a pointless, self-imposed challenge and, mostly, having a good time at it. Any other day, I would have thought the Elvis impersonator crooning for us at mile 1 and the brass band honking out "Another One Bites the Dust" at mile 5 were corny, but I appreciated the comic relief yesterday. As I approached the finish line, the cheering--though not directed at me in particular--made me crank out just a little extra effort.

With what results? I finished with a time of 52:46, placing me 325th in an overall field of 1,436, and 29th out of 93 in the Men's 40-44 age class.

Nike won't be offering me an endorsement deal, but I came away feeling I had made a good showing, and that I was more than competent as a runner. Most days, that accomplishment wouldn't have meant much to me, but yesterday it did. I had seen this race as a one-time lark, but I was barely across the finish line when I decided to run it next year.

There's something here about how a collective effort infuses ordinary events with greater significance that I'm not sure yet how to frame. Being a pretty independent, even somewhat anti-social person, this comes unexpectedly. Yet I expect some of what I felt in the race on Sunday will now accompany me on our lonely jogs around the neigborhood.




Speaking of solitary pursuits, my bass outing Friday night yielded one 15" smallmouth and two about 9". Not great, but a big improvement over Wednesday. And I managed to keep the river OUTSIDE my waders.